


Lofi Beats to Sleep and Love Lee Minho to

by chronosaurus (kimnamjin)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff and Mush, Han Jisung | Han is Whipped, Late at Night, Literal Sleeping Together, Love, M/M, My first fic of 2021 eeeee!!, Sharing a Bed, Short & Sweet, Sleep talking, Sleepy Cuddles, Soft Han Jisung | Han, Soft Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Their Love Is So, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Watching Someone Sleep, but like in a cute fluffy way i promise, cozy vibes, cute minsung being cute, hand holding, inspired by Minho’s irl sleep talking habit, jisung loves minho so much :(, minho is asleep lmao, oops jisung is waxing poetic about minho again, the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff, the title will make sense by the end, this might just be my softest minsung ever, very very sweet hehe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28656297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimnamjin/pseuds/chronosaurus
Summary: 9 times out of 10, Minho babbles absolute nonsense in his sleep.But sometimes, when he's not slurring about Doraemon trying to have him for dinner, his sleep talking takes a different route.Minho sighed, deep and tranquil, and Jisung felt the exhale fan his fringe off his brows.“‘M really love you, Jisung.”Sometimes Minho sleep-talks to Jisung about how much he loves him.And he would be lying if he didn't admit that those moments, that 1 time out of 10 in the stillness and richness of the night, are his favorites. Even more than when Minho sleep-shrieks about Soonie blasting off to the moon in a kitty-shaped rocketship.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 36
Kudos: 407





	Lofi Beats to Sleep and Love Lee Minho to

_“Jis’ng,”_

It's as if Minho can _tell_ when Jisung isn't asleep, he swears. Like he can _feel_ it in his bones and in the air that, despite the deepness of his own sleep, Jisung's eyes are dazed and open as he lays on his back and stares up at the ceiling. 

Jisung turned his head, and is met with the sight of Minho's wild, vaguely electrocuted bedhead springing up like a crown, and the beautiful fan of delicate lashes overlapping. He's smiling in his sleep. Barely. Just a little quirk at his pink lips, but still something present enough to be highlighted in the faint glow of the bedroom. 

“Yeah?” Jisung whispered, so as not to wake their slumbering maknae roommate. Minho went to bed in Jisung's room tonight, and the last thing he wants is to accidentally rouse Jeongin in the shuffle. 

Minho snuggled closer, weaved his legs between Jisung's with purposefulness that should elude someone _this_ far into dreamland. Jisung sighed, blissfully, as Minho's weight and pressure engulfed him like a wave. 

Jisung's twin bed is tiny, and cramped to the point where _cuddling_ basically becomes the natural state of things once you add another person into the mix. But their contact is decisive, not a byproduct of lack of space but because that is simply _their_ preferred natural state. 

Jisung wouldn't accept a larger bed even if the company paid him to, thanks to nights like these. 

The curtains have been left open, only a crack, not even enough to wake them once the sun rises, but enough to let in a pencil-thin stream of moonlight.

The pale glow, hardly brighter than the mere suggestion of illumination, clawed its way through the thick darkness and curled up on Minho's cheekbone and the dip of his cupid's bow visible above the blanket. As if one light recognizes another, and runs only to him. 

“Doraemon…” Minho slurred, nuzzling his face against the pillow and smushing up his cheek. “Is tryna...nom on me.” 

Jisung chuckled, but quickly gulped down his laughter, hushed it with a palm slapped over his grin. He idly propped his hands behind his head once he deemed his giggle fit effectively handled. 

Minho is sleep talking again, and this dream must be a _doozy._

“Is that right?” Jisung mused, near silently. He beamed up at the ceiling for a split second, as if the dingy drywall is inherently beautiful. “That's not very nice of him, now is it.”

Jisung leaned down closer to Minho's soft, perfect, even-featured face, smelled the stale peppermint of his toothpaste and caught the moon’s gleam on the thin track of drool dried on his chin. He cupped a hand over his mouth, and whisper-shrieked, “Hey, Doraemon! Quit trying to eat my favorite hyung!” 

The dancer released an odd hiccup-squeak-giggle hybrid at that, and promptly fell back into a dead, soundless sleep. That small smile though, lopsided and chapped from the dry air of the bedroom, is still very much upturning Minho's lips. 

Minho often sleep-talks, or sleep-grunts, or sleep- _screams,_ and tonight is no different. 

And when Minho babbles in his sleep, it is almost always complete, utter nonsense.

Once Minho wiggled in bed, faced Jisung as if staring him down through closed eyes, and declared with unwavering seriousness, _“There's pokemon...dancing in the laundry room.”_

Yeah, _that_ kind of dream-fueled ridiculousness. 

It's not like Jisung _minds,_ though. If anything, the possibility of Minho mumbling through the fog of slumber about cats bouncing on trampolines is one of the innumerable reasons he's oh-so addicted to staying awake in bed with the older boy. 

Jisung is well known in the dorm and fandom alike for his love of sleeping in ‘til the very late afternoon when given the chance. He's mentioned waking for the day at 2:30, 3:30 p.m. enough times for something like that to _stick_ in people's minds.

But, what their fans _don't_ know, is that sometimes Jisung ends up snoozing so late into the day because he stayed _awake_ throughout the night basking in Minho. 

Sometimes Jisung forcefully pulls himself out of his own dreams, the nasty and uncomfortable ones, all in the name of being mindful and conscious at ungodly hours of the morning and watching how Minho's lips occasionally twitch as he dreams. The sting at the rims of his waterlines is worth it, he always thinks. 

Moments like this, atmospheres _like this_ are so few and far between in their dorm, Jisung would much rather lose some hours of midnight sleep than doze the rarity away. Their home life is always so loud, so chaotic, with so much motion, but the a.m.-p.m. blur is as if a different world.

All the light and sound and action of the daytime has been completely inverted to darkness, silence, stagnation. The tornado becomes a vacuum once everyone turns in, and sometimes Jisung just likes to _be_ in it. With him. 

_Especially_ with him. 

Minho is wearing his favorite socks tonight. The yellow pair with the fluffy white sherpa lining, printed with cartoon sheep. Jisung can feel them along his own bare feet, the smoothness of the fibers, with how their legs are tangled beneath the covers. He can feel the muscle of Minho's calves against his, as the dancer’s buffalo plaid lounge pants have ridden up from shifting in his sleep. 

Some people, people who don't _know_ him, who don't take the _time_ to, think Minho is so cold and so hard. Like a _statue,_ and not like a _person._ But in reality, Lee Minho is the complete antithesis of these very notions. Lee Minho is softness and heat, the kind of warmth that could thaw you from a block of ice. The plush bounce of a bite of cotton candy on your tongue. A sugar rush that ebbs into a pleasant kind of exhaustion. 

Minho is the light and snap and color of a firecracker, and the smoke and awe and appreciative silence once the sparks fade. 

It's because of Minho's warmth that Jisung intentionally forgoes the heater, forgoes the electric blanket in the middle of winter. 

Lee Minho's heat could melt the ice age, and sometimes Jisung ignores his desires for sleep in the name of just _feeling_ him. Just putting his thoughts and the half-hearted lyric ideas simmering in his brain to the back burner, in favor of _living_ with the person he loves most in the world.

He used to cringe at the idea of doing absolutely _nothing_ productive–even watching youtube could be edifying, he argues!–and just _being,_ for the sake of it. But right now, when if he concentrates _just right_ he can feel the gentle rise and fall of the duvet with each of Minho's breaths, there's nothing he'd rather be doing besides... _nothing._

Jisung’s fingers began to stiffen from the cold, and he quickly released his arms from behind his head and buried them back under the blanket. He subconsciously moved his left hand once under the thick covers, and bumped his knuckles with Minho's. 

His tiny fingers are slack and loosely curled inwards, almost as if trying to form a kitten paw, and Jisung couldn't help himself from carefully wedging his own between the spaces. He gently clasped Minho's hand, pressed his thumb into the soft skin, squeezed a bit tighter when his warmth began to feel miles and miles away after acclimating. 

Minho cooed in his sleep. Almost a mewl.

They have a busy day tomorrow, chock full of broadcasts and filmings, but Jisung refuses to mourn the precious sleep he is forsaking. It's worth it, for moments like this. It's all worth it, for Minho's sleep-crooked smile and the feather soft weight of his fingers between Jisung's.

He'll be tired tomorrow, undoubtedly, but Jisung would make the same sacrifice without question. 

In fact, he most definitely will tomorrow night. And the night after that. 

And the one after that, too. 

Minho stirred in his sleep once again. His eyes scrunched a bit, as he pushed himself further into Jisung's side. His dream must have shifted, changed directions. Charted a new course. 

9 times out of 10, Minho grumbles absolute gibberish in his sleep. 

Cartoon characters getting into galactic battles for the sake of humanity's future, his cats performing in a ballet recital, Chan hyung magically sprouting a pair of purple parrot wings. 

But sometimes, when he's not slurring about Doraemon trying to have him for dinner, his sleep talking takes a different route.

Minho's features smoothed out again, once satisfied with his body-to-body smothering of Jisung. He sighed, deep and tranquil, and Jisung felt the exhale fan his fringe off his brows. 

“‘M really love you, Jisung.” 

Sometimes Minho sleep-talks to Jisung about how much he loves him.

And he would be lying if he didn't admit that those moments, that 1 time out of 10 in the stillness and richness of the night, are his favorites. Even more than when Minho sleep-shrieks about Soonie blasting off to the moon in a kitty-shaped rocketship. 

Jisung tightened his loving grip on Minho's hand, feeling his heart fill until his adoration threatened to spill from his grinning lips and down his chin. Minho must be dreaming of him now, he assumes. Jisung hopes Minho knows he dreams of him, too. 

It's far too late for his heart to start pounding like _this,_ for him to get giddy like _this,_ but it could not be helped. He whispered, slightly muffled in his ears from such thunderous beating, “I love you too, hyung.” 

It's because of times like these that Jisung happily accepts the inevitable bags under his eyes and the ache of fatigue in his muscles come morning. 

Minho whimpered in his sleep, as if he heard Jisung. His drowsy smile widened, just a bit, before falling back straight as his dreams overtook him again. Maybe he did hear him, after all. 

Jisung just stared, lovestruck, squinting through the wispy bar of moonlight as Minho snoozes so perfectly, so soundly.

Then Jisung realized he's probably being _kinda_ creepy right now, and his cheeks flushed atomic red. His dewy gaze darted away, quickly finding the ceiling above, until Jisung's heart panged at the sudden and total loss of Minho. His eyes slunk back down to the boy cuddled up against him, whose steady heartbeat is ringing into his side, and Jisung's chest warmed. 

All is right in the world again. As far as Jisung thinks, it’s not _totally_ weird as long as Minho doesn’t totally _know_ he coolly, casually watches him sleep sometimes. (Read: _all_ the time)

But after another ten minutes of silence on Minho's end, Jisung came to the conclusion that it is time he try to _actually_ go to sleep. They only have a few short hours left until alarms start to ring, and that thought now sent a bolt of fear through Jisung's heart.

He'll be lucky if he doesn't nod off at the radio broadcast, at this rate!

Knowing he's gonna need some help to get properly sleepy, Jisung carefully, cautiously reached his far hand out from under the covers, and retrieved his airpods and phone from charging. Jisung made a point to keep his movements tight, so he doesn't jostle the blanket too much. He awkwardly shoved in the wireless buds, which was unsurprisingly difficult given how he only had the use of one hand, and swiped youtube open.

Jisung got comfy on his back, scrolled through his liked videos playlist until he found his favorite lofi medley, and clicked the familiar thumbnail. 

The first song starts off with a crackling sound bite from an anime Jisung's never watched, until the song itself kicks in with a flurry of jazzy tonal shifts. Jisung unconsciously looked to Minho once again, as the track progressed. He lightly tapped the tip of a finger against Minho’s knuckles, in time with the music. 

The boy appears so peaceful in sleep, so content, that Jisung couldn't help a palpably tired smile at the sight. 

The first track faded into the second. 

Jisung relaxed, sapped whatever tension was hiding in his body, and shut his eyes. The darkness behind his lids is somehow different from the darkness of the bedroom. He found himself missing the dim moonlight on Minho's skin. 

The beats, which Jisung have all but memorized at this point, began to work their magic. Popping and smooth, creamy like a sip of cocoa, the compilation gradually sent Jisung's consciousness towards the precipice. 

Jisung squeezed Minho's hand with whatever strength he could muster, before his own fingers went limp. 

He tipped over that foggy edge between waking and dreaming, as the moonlight began to lighten outside the drapes.

Jisung fell asleep as track six hummed through his airpods, with Minho's hand grasped in his.

Jisung fell asleep with a fire pooling in his heart, keeping him cozy despite the savage chill just outside the covers. 

His phone died of low battery right at the start of track eleven. Minho's even breathing became his soundtrack from then on out. 

Jisung and Minho slept through the remainder of the night with matching smiles on their faces, as they dreamed in unison. 

And tonight was well worth the exhaustion in store for him upon the sunrise, just as Jisung thought. Worth the under eye bags and burning fatigue and lip-stretching yawns, and his inevitable hankering for a nap with Minho on the way to the station. 

It's always worth it, with him. 

**Author's Note:**

> as u can see minsung really make me *crying cat meme*
> 
> I’m very happy to be posting a fic i am legitimately satisfied with as my first work of the new year :’) i hope u enjoyed, and pls do drop a kudo if u did!! It motivates me so very much ;; <3


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